Since the summer of 2016,  Overture has become a word that has come to mean so many things, all of which roots from the standard definition found from the dictionary: an orchestral piece at the beginning of an opera, play, or an introduction to something more substantial.

For me it means a fresh beginning, a chance to come out of the woodwork, carrying with me only the most valuable. It’s a statement that tells the world that now, more than ever, I am present and capable, ready for whatever the world offers (but mostly gigs, publications and other poetry-related projects, please Universe).

And with that, alongside other stimuli such as Eva Noblezada’s cabaret series Girl No More, the recent trend on Twitter which have creatives posting self-advertising tweets that would start with “Hi, my name is __ and I am a ___. Please hire me!” as well as a strong leonine ego that strives only to be stroked, comes my very first headline show Overture: An Evening with Troy Cabida, produced by poet, creative producer and visual artist Ruth Sutoyé, which took place on the 11th of August 2018 at DIY Space for London.

It was a project created to introduce myself as a poet and producer through stories, jokes, healing crystals and poems upon poems in between. It would not have existed if it weren’t for the many people whose work I hugely admire, the same people who have offered me nothing but faith and belief in my own work, our primary goal being to help elevate and empower one another through our individual and collective arts.

In a year where poetry is taken to the next level, what with Gabriel Jones’ Let Me Out Of My Room Please where his empathetic and equally electric music collaborates with poets, dancers and life in London, the sensation that was BoxedIn Clash, the growth and expansion of Heaux Noire, Jeremiah “SugarJ Poet” Brown’s Likkle Rum with Grandma and Sean Mahoney’s Until You Hear That Bell, I’d like to think that Overture debuted at the right time, when the craft that connects us all further develops into a versatile and adaptable organism.

Thank you to Amina Jama, Neimo Askar and Malakaï Sargeant for being the kinds of poets I aspire to be when I grow up. To Gabriel Jones aka Bump Kin for the music, to Aiden Harmitt-Williams for the photography (check out those portraits!), Tyrone Lewis for the videography, Malikah Holder for the flyer and pamphlet design. To Ayaan Abdullahi, Idil Abdullahi, Bayan Goudarzpour and Suhaama Elmi for all of your support on the night. To Ben, Annie and the whole DIY Space for London for being so warm and accommodating. To everyone who bought a ticket, came down to watch or simply posted or retweeted on their social media handles in support of the show. To Marilyn.

To my host, photographer, director and producer Ruth Sutoyé, you are the moon to my sun. I love you for everything that you are, for telling me when I’m doing something wrong, for reminding me how okay I am and for being ever so patient. I could not have asked for a better (and more time-efficient) partner.

Onto the next chapter!



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